The Last Generation
by Kristan
Summary: Two hundred years in the future, Buffy needs help destorying the one thing that destoryed her..
1. Default Chapter

Sometimes she let it slip. She would remember his hands. His strong legs. The whisper of his voice on her skin. But that would be followed by desolation. The years that passed. Too many to remember anymore. Too many decades. Once in awhile his face would float back. Her dark hours. Moments when she was ready to leave. To sink down, shut off safety, say good-bye to no one. That's when she remembered. In the beat of her forlorn heart, she knew he was still out there. Lost again in the shadow. Just waiting. There was still bitterness in her veins. It would run cold when she realized he put her in this position. Made her a child all over gain. She was in charge of her life. The depravity that prowled around her, day in and night out.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
He kept his eyes fixated on the cold woman. There was a deep malignancy in that woman's bones. He would wait all night, just to get the chance of this good kill. As the evil would rush out of the woman, spilling out along with her brutal blood. He had patience; he was over four centuries old. He moved with grace along the floor. Watched as the corrupted woman waltzed out the door. Her perfume of confidence was still pungent in the dank air. He stalked after her. In his own, soft beastly grace. He waited for months to prepare. For this kill. This night when her blood would flow without encumbrance. The predatory smile incased his face as he trailed her out the door. As he stood outside the throbbing club, he could smell the vital juices of his enemy. His monster emerged; his muscles began to spasm for the long awaited slaughter. He tracked the fragrance of blood, the sounds of a challenge ascended on his hearing. He snarled. This monster shall kill no other innocent. He dashed to the battle. Two shadow-clad figures were interlocked in combat. A small creature was bringing forth the life-blood of his intended victim. His own beast roared. This was his kill. His revenge. He ran deeper into the filmy alley. His night-seeing vision in overdrive. Within three feet, his nemesis fell. He stopped. The air was suddenly familiar. Over the stench of death, there was something forgotten.  
  
"You want some too?" came the killer's voice. His dead breath caught in his throat.  
  
"Gods.Buffy?"  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
His voice vibrated off the grimy alley walls. Her beating heart stopped. But it was starting again; pumped into life by acerbity.  
  
"Yes?" she asked casually, as if talking to someone she might have met, years ago. He stepped back, fearful of what he might see.  
  
"I'm not demon." She snapped. But he still moved away. She stalked after him. The street lamp poured foreign, artificial light over her features. She could see his demon, still raging over the loss of the kill. She smirked.  
  
"Can never get over a good kill, can you? The way they beg, when the blood glistens just so.its pure pleasure, is it not?" he stepped further away, deeper into the alley, into the ever closing night. His head shook, thoughts and ideas forming that were forbidden. She took a deep, cleansing breath. A sneer washed across her glorious face. The demon's blood began to dry on her fingers. She brought them up to her mouth and nonchalantly licked it away.  
  
"Feel it running through your veins? Did you want it, Angelus? The kill? Did you crave it? How long? Months? Weeks?" his eyes were narrowed. She was pushing him further into the alley. Circled him like her prey, her power, and her anger, making him quiver. His monster thundered to be free. To fight off this horrible power. To survive.  
  
"It was my kill." He growled. She scoffed.  
  
"Were you ready for it? Could you handle the consequences? You were never ready, Angelus. You never could be. Never pushed the limits. You were always too timid." She hissed. He towered above her. His animosity building with each word spoken. He let his beast out, inch by inch.  
  
"What was it to you? Getting off on murders now, Slayer?" he snarled. He sucked his fangs.  
  
"Acquired a new taste for blood, how does it make you feel, Slayer?" he advanced towards her. She smiled sourly. As if she pitied him.  
  
"A little bit.how can I put this? Umm.immortal." She purred the last word. She was face to chest with him. His whole being yearned for violence, to rip the smug look off her face. But with the last word spoken, he froze. A fear like feeling crept deep inside his bones. Burrowed beneath his skin. Ate away at his insides.  
  
"Wanna see how immortal Angelus? Not your type of immortality. But the kind where you can't die. It's really a lovely feeling. God-like." She spoke tartly. Her body burned. To say such brackish words, to her lover. After two hundred years, she had practice at hiding her fears.  
  
He was falling apart inside. His soul screaming out to her, to touch her long ago body. To lick away her wounds. But his beast was raging. To kill this opponent. To make her his lover once again. She stood stock still, as did he. Each waited for a flicker of movement.  
  
The malodor of the dead enemy stuck to the inside of her mouth. She was shaking on the inside. Her energy was building. Her instincts knew there was savagery to come.  
  
"You think you could have taken her down, Angelus?" she leered, referring to the terminated foe. His hair stood on end every time she spoke his name. The urge to make her bleed was overwhelming, but so was the reflex to kiss her.  
  
"Of course, Slayer. You think that little of me?" she smiled. A bitter, soul-wrenching smile.  
  
"Where you ever ready to take on a God?" she asked sweetly. His brows knitted together, only for a split second. But she caught it.  
  
"So you didn't know, lover? The woman that you sought was a fallen Greek God? I would have thought, with your intelligence and instincts, you would have figured that out." She ran her hands over the lapels of his duster. He stared down at her.  
  
"I can almost touch your need for violence. I can smell it. Want to see if you can take me on? You think you can, Angelus?" he growled, deep in his chest. Letting the beast dawn from the depths of its confinements. He grabbed her arms in a crushing grasp.  
  
"I don't think, I know." He seethed in her ear. She snapped her teeth at him. She shoved him away from her. He underestimated her strength, with that light shove, he stumbled back.  
  
"Come on now, lover. Vampire versus Slayer, fight as old as earth. I have nothing to lose, but you on the other hand, have your life."  
  
~ ~ ~ 


	2. Seems I Got Too Much

The agonizing moments continued on. Each waiting, neither wanting this to come to death. Each inside wishing it would. All these years passed. Years to learn to forget, to take on other lovers. To become hardened to the familiar voice of an old lover.  
  
"How did you become this way, Slayer? Make a final deal with the devil?" he thought he heard her growl.  
  
"Which way, Angelus? Like you? Or finally amount to the full Slayer I always was destined to become?" I was destined to be with you, she thought bitterly.  
  
"Who made you?" her eyes were set ablaze. Within a moment he was thrown across the alleyway, into the waiting brick wall. His face connected with its solidiness, breaking bones.  
  
"I'm not demon!" She snarled at his rumpled body. He jumped at her. A right cross was easily blocked, but her kick to his midsection wasn't. He knocked out her feet, or at least tried to. She brought blood to his nose, he fought, trying against whatever odds to land something . Fists were frantic to make contact. Many of hers finding some. The Slayer power and two hundred years of experience were showing. But he held. Blocking many shots, luckily landing a few. He was waiting. Waiting for her breath to hitch, to see the first drop of sweat. To see her tiring and for him to get his final chance.  
  
But it never came. Not once did she stop to breathe, nor to wipe the sweat from her brow. His chances were beginning to lessen. But his endurance began to set in.  
  
He was almost her match. Who was she kidding. She was holding out on him. Biting back half of her strength. Not quite good enough. She was waiting. To see if he would try for his final chance. To see if there would need be for her to make it his last chance. She caught his foot in mid-air twisting it into unused positions. He used it to his advantage. His other leg to kick out her knee. His hands already bracing his solid body. With all the hits, they both landed tangled together. His lips mere inches from hers. He leaned in, his habit of breathing hot on her face.  
  
"No! Don't." Buffy pushed him away from her. Feelings flushed her face, making it harder to push him away. But she did. Throwing him farther away. She stood and faced away from him. "Buffy.." he reached for her arm. She jerked it from his grasp.  
  
"No. Just don't. Leave. Or I will."  
  
"Buffy, what's going on?" she turned and glared at him.  
  
"Don't call me that!" she cried.  
  
"What? Buffy." she slapped him across his bruised face. He almost choked at the blood that filled his mouth.  
  
"I'm not Buffy. Buffy died a long time ago. I can't.I just can't hear that name. Okay?" he absently nodded.  
  
"What do you want me to call you?"  
  
"Dawn." She said quietly.  
  
"Oh, okay. Well, what are you doing here?"  
  
"Immortal. I'm two hundred and twenty six." She said with a soft laugh.  
  
"How did this happen?" Angel asked. She rolled her eyes. Nothing had changed. Her eyes, still green, but less spark. Body still lethal. Soul almost gone.  
  
"You make it sound like a disease! It just happened. Too close to death, yet again, and whoever slaps me in the face with this."  
  
"What are you doing? Why were you hunting her?" her nostrils flared and her lips curled.  
  
"Name's Glory. Centuries ago she slaughtered my family. Turned the whole world upside down. I was dying. Pretty close to it. Then here comes my great gift, and I become the hunter." She looked down to the splitting asphalt. He stared at her. Glory. He knew her. Fought her. Hunted her.  
  
"Explain to me how this happened." She snickered.  
  
"In full detail?" he nodded. Her eyes narrowed.  
  
"You got time?"  
  
"Seems I got too much."  
  
~ ~ ~ 


	3. Death Is Your gift

Her time was near. She felt it. Again. Inching up, crawling beneath her nerves. She bit her cheek, already tasting the stale blood. She thought she was dead. But she never gave up. If her body was bleeding and broken into various pieces, she would find away. Some way. She did. What was left, after love? After you saw everyone that could ever mean anything to you, trampled, torn and butchered? There was one thing. Something she thought she could never feel again, this tempestuous, this burning. This rage.  
  
She pulled herself up the wall, leaving blood trails. She let out a scornful, painful laugh.  
  
"You thought it would be over? You thought if you killed and maimed, things would just end?" Glory turned at the sound of the pitiful Slayer. She dropped her umpteenth body.  
  
"Okay, listen, sugarlips, I'm not even breaking a sweat, and yet I still seemed to have broken everything in your body. I would say, it is beyond over." She smiled. A smile of triumph. Of finally being able to go home. But the slayer, she shook her head. Glory arched her sculpted eyebrow. Buffy sucked on her teeth, spitting out blood. As if she didn't have anymore to lose.  
  
"Everything, huh? Nope, not done yet. I'd say you were wimping out. I mean, here I am, all bloody and I am still ready to kill your skanky- knock off wearing ass." Glory's eyes widened.  
  
"Knock off?! Knock off?! I don't think so little one! This dress was five hundred dollars! Imported from Italy and used only the finest, costly, silks! And you, dead Slayer, call this a knock off?!" her voice was growing and the glow in her eyes seemed hotter. Buffy had her attention now. She swallowed the blood that crept up her throat while she stepped away from the wall. She did a quick scan.  
  
Glory's apartment was in shambles. Huge craters of dry wall lay forgotten on the cranberry carpet. Paint was stripped away with fire stains and splashes of human life. She couldn't count how many bodies there were. She didn't want to. She knew they were all gone. All of them. Her body wanted to contract, to push up any fluids that were in her body. Willow and Tara did a good job. They knocked Glory out for a while, Giles and Xander, they took good care of her minions. Anya knew how to handle a shovel; she had beaten many a bad men to a gruesome death. But they didn't last. Spike, oh Spike, how he fought and killed for Dawn. But he was too late. She laid quietly while Spike stroked her hair and rained tears on her pale face. He went after Glory, after whoever was closest. She could hear his anguish screams and painful bellows. He fell with a soft crumple. But at least he wasn't dust. There were only two now. One would bring this world to its lowest instant and the other, the other would rip apart anything that would kill her family. So this is what built inside of her. Her eyes burned, not with tears, but with hatred. Her knees shook, with fury and the yearning to lash out. Her nails drew torrents of blood from her broken hands, trembling with uncaged ire.  
  
She felt Glory step closer, her movements too fast for her eye. Time slowed. Light ballooned in her head, flashing distorted images of her past life. That's what it was. Her past life. She was dead. She no longer needed to breathe. Everything finally came to its end. And this was hers. She thought it would hurt, thought were might be a peaceful music, but still behind all this light, there built her rage. 'Death is your gift', the First Slayer had said. 'I am dead', came her first response. She opened her eyes, Glory still stood, but the carnage didn't vanish. She turned her head slowly, seeing the soft wisps of her friends travel Heavenward. Willow helped Tara up. Xander held Anya and she held out her hand to Giles. He gratefully took it and glanced over at Buffy. He smiled a proud smile and too soon they were gone. Her body lifted up, straining to join them. But a heavy hand held her in place. She struggled, fighting bonds that wouldn't ease up. 'Noooo!' she screamed. Heart wrenching and agony filled. Dawn rose up. She looked over at her sister, smile softly leaking from her face.  
  
"Don't fight this. Death, is your gift. This is your gift. Immortality, Buffy. All this, everything you fought, you loved was for this. You are needed, here, forever. Don't fight it." Willow reappeared. She took Dawn's hand.  
  
"It's time to go Dawnie." She said. As if just up to bed. Not a tear fell when they vanished. Spike didn't move. She knew he was still there. She stared into Glory's eyes. Time had frozen them into a set of pure smugness. She knew she was going to win. That's all she ever knew. But never once, never in all her thousands of centuries, did she meet a loved Slayer. An enraged Slayer. A Slayer that grew into her full peak as she died. As every Slayer before her, filled her every cell. She was just a toy. Something that the world had been waiting for. Slayers died for her to live, to fight, to then die again. So they could make it. So that they could rise up, from their deceased, generation born bodies, and join hers. In the last Slayer body to ever walk the earth. And as the First Slayer joined the rest, she said,  
  
"We are your gift." Time snapped back. Buffy gulped and her body shuddered with its new, unbridled power. Her eyes grew orange, just as they did one year ago.  
  
"I don't do knock-offs." She seethed, right as if time kept going. Buffy just blinked. Every wound, bruise, broken and bleeding bone was healed. She cocked her head to the side and sighed.  
  
"Am I boring you child?" the God asked.  
  
"As a matter of fact," her voice boomed deeper, stronger, smoother, "I was just going to say that!" Glory flinched. She saw the sudden change, the surge of strength and radiation of power.  
  
"Who are you?" she softly asked. The Slayer's tongue peeked out and wiped her pink lips.  
  
"Buffy, The vampire Slayer. And you, my cheap whore, are dead." Her hands flashed out, the motion not able to show in neither space nor time. One punch sent the god crashing threw three of her stained walls. The Slayer flew across the dead, landed inches away from Glory's leather soled feet.  
  
"There is a Slayer borne into every generation. One girl in all the world, with the power and strength to fight evil. And I, I am the last one. Not what you would call a dying breed. Every girl, every child that was forced upon this world to save it, to sacrifice her life, that is me. I am her. Them. We are One. And together We will rid this world of evil. Of the First. And it seems We are going to start with you." She grabbed out her heart, not flinching at the suction it made. Glory's body twisted and jerked, spasming. Buffy dropped it like a flower and walked out.  
  
Glory sat up.  
  
"Ow! That was a bitchy Slayer! What the hell was she talking about, 'We'? Jeez! A little power and she starts referring to herself in third person!"  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
He still stared at her. Them, or was it just her?  
  
"So, all of them are in there? With you?" she nodded.  
  
"But I mean, its not like I'm a schizo, I mean, I'm still me. But with all of them." She shrugged.  
  
"Do you want to go somewhere?" she looked up at him. She had marred his beautiful face. It was bleeding, from several deep punches. She thought maybe, his jaw was broken and there was a lot of internal bleeding.  
  
"Yea, but let me help you, okay?" he looked down at himself, seeming to just notice all the blood that seemed to puddle around his feet.  
  
"I think that could work." She wrapped her small, deadly arm around his big waist and half carried him away.  
  
She stared into the brown tea. Idly stirring it. He was worse than she thought. Over the years she thought she had a handle on her power. On Them. But she guessed, maybe she didn't. She sat at his small wooden table. His place was small. Brick walls, some covered with ancient paintings, most just bare. He had an old fashioned refrigerator. The kind she remembered when she was a mortal. The floors were cement, but smoothed down. A lone black faded gray couch sat in the middle of the adjoining room. Before it sat a coffee table, stack two feet high with musty books. From this distance she easily read the titles. In The Dark Ages To Come, Demons of This World and Others, Black Arts and The Secrets to Taming Them, The Codence and Alice in WonderLand? She chuckled. She stood up when she realized his drink was ready. She picked up the pot from the wood stove and poured the ingredients into it. She heard his muffled groan and walked softly into his one room. He lay in black sheets, half rumpled on the floor. He heard her clicked steps and opened his eyes.  
  
"Hey." He said. She smiled, but a cold one. Something she wore for benefit. Maybe for his. She handed him a cup.  
  
"Drink." She ordered. He immediately smelled her blood. He pushed the cup away.  
  
"I'm not drinking that. Its your blood! What are you thinking?" she sat next to him and took the cup from his hands.  
  
"I'm thinking that by drinking this, you will be healed in a matter of seconds, so what I was thinking seemed to be a good thought." He shook his head.  
  
"No, Buffy. I'm not going to." She thought she remembered an argument like this many decades ago. Just like this. With him. She held the warm cup between her small palms.  
  
"I could have killed you tonight." She said softly. A frown creased his mouth.  
  
"I know things are uneasy between us, Buffy, but I don't think you could of."  
  
"Angel, I wasn't even trying. I was holding so much back. I wanted to hurt you, but then, I didn't."  
  
"You were holding back? That, was you. Holding back?" he asked skeptically. She nodded. She turned to face him.  
  
"Please, just drink this. I don't want to have to really hurt you." She smiled lightly. He took the cup from her and held it to his lips. He locked eyes with her and she turned away. The smell, it took over his whole body. His senses were going wild and he was almost shaking in anticipation. With one swallow it was gone. His body began to jerk and the cup flew from his hands, with ease, Buffy caught it. He moaned and clutched his arms to his body. She watched as her blood filled his veins and rejuvenated his dead body.  
  
"Oh Gods." he cried. Buffy held him down and within seconds his demon showed. He jumped from her grasp and landed two feet from the bed. He stared back at her in awe.  
  
"I don't think I've ever felt this powerful, Buffy. How..how did you know?" she shrugged.  
  
"You learn a lot in two hundred years." He nodded. Angel stared down at his cement floor. It felt cold under his bare feet. So did this room. He turned and walked into the only other room. Buffy set the glass down and followed suit.  
  
~ ~ ~ 


	4. We Are the Last

"When did you learn to read Latin?" Angel questioned.  
  
"Somewhere along with the others."  
  
"Others?" he asked with a smile. She nodded. She wasn't happy about it. To know so much, but to want to share very little.  
  
"Do you want to tell me how?" he looked at her as she sat on his couch, flipping through Blue Codex and Prophecy.  
  
"Nope." She scanned the pages, memorizing each word. Each meaning. Feeling the binding, trying to absorb more information. For three days he tried to pry things out of her. Where she'd been, what she'd killed. All those things she locked away. Noting to never think of them again. Killed and forgotten.  
  
"Two days before you came, I killed a Mornch demon. He said.." she raptly listened. She stood up from the couch and walked closer to him, where he stood against a brick pillar.  
  
"What did it say?" she snapped. There were only two, no, now one Mornch left in the world. She tracked down all of them. Killing them when they held back the information. Angel folded his arms over his chest, trying to read why she wanted to know so badly.  
  
"He spoke about you. I thought you were dead, Buffy. Two hundred years."  
  
"What did he say?" she hissed. Her eyes glassed over, he stepped back, feeling fury pouring from her bones.  
  
"Tell me why you want to know so bad." She sneered.  
  
"Oh so this is how it goes. I spill and then , maybe you do too? I don't like it." She growled at him. He stood up taller, towering over her furious body.  
  
"Then I guess we won't know then." They both lapsed into silence. Buffy twirled around and slammed her fist threw the brick pillar. Her hand went all the way through. Angel wasn't shocked. Wasn't surprised. After all these years, she was still used to getting her way. With anything she wanted. And her power played the biggest role. For an hour she paced. Growled and mumbled. Punched walls and broke his only lamp.  
  
"Mornch demons were known to be linked to the First. Powerful demons to predict where, when the First would show up. A type of minion. I tracked them all down. From Asia to the lowest corner of Chile, I found them all. Except, two. Two of the most powerful demons ever. They couldn't be found. I traveled all over, killing whatever I came in contact with, just to find out where they were. I killed so many." she trailed off. Angel walked over to her. Embracing her. Feeling home, safer then he had felt in far too long. She stiffened, but relaxed into his touch.  
  
"Why did you need to find the First?" just the name brought back repressed memories, lives and bloodshed.  
  
"It ends with the First. All of it." Angel pulled abruptly back.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Every dark corner, every drop of hate, will vanish. I can save the world. For the last time." He pushed her away from him. She was happy about that? There's no way.  
  
"Buf--Dawn, you..you can't do that." He cried. She snorted.  
  
"Of course I can! I was brought back to do it! That's why I'm here, We are here. For just that. If it takes me three hundred more years, then so be it. I will kill It off. For good." Angel shook his head.  
  
"How can you be so daft? Gods B--Dawn! Have you even thought about what you're trying to do?" he stalked away from her. Afraid of what she might do, of what she might succeed in doing.  
  
"I've thought about it every single day for two hundred and six years. I know every move, every sound, every taste of what might happen." She was snarling.  
  
"No, Dawn. Don't think about yourself! Or Yourselves for that matter. All this is is revenge. This world can't be without evil. Without The First. It has to balance out. You can't just suddenly take off one side because you got dealt a bad hand!" she had pushed him up against the wall before he was finished. Her nails tore through his skin. Her breath was hard and ragged.  
  
"What about all those girls, Angel? The ones who fought, the ones who died to make me see this day. To fight The First. All the lost souls that were taken by The First, all of them! Think of them Angel!" she screamed.  
  
"I'm just doing this because I got dealt a bad hand? I don't think so. I'm doing this because I have to, I was born to do this. I was built to do this. Before time was spun, it was already known that I would be The One. The Chosen One. The Last. That's what We are. The Last. And I will set all those people free. No more scared nights, no more painful memories. Because I can stop it. Because I will stop it." She let him go. Her hands were trembling, waves of dizziness wiped over her body.  
  
"How will everyone survive? The First is in us all. It was born into us. Just as Good was. You can't take that away from all those living. What about all those trying to make up for it? Those trying to help? Where does that leave them? Where does that leave me?" his last sentence stopped her. She never thought. What about him? Would the Evil just leave his body? How would he survive? How would they all survive?  
  
"There can never be a time without Evil, just as there can never be a time without Good. That's why the world has never ended. You are the Good. Like all those are Evil. Dawn, you can't do this. You could kill off millions, maybe even everyone, by doing this. That's not why you were brought back. Not why you were given, this..this gift. You can't do it, Dawn, you can't." her nostrils flared. This is her job. She was brought for this. And only this. She whirled to face him.  
  
"I can. And that's exactly what We plan to do." She stomped out of his apartment, leaving cracks in his floor and his steel door flat against the ground.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
She killed many things that night. His words sticking to her skin.  
  
"You can't Dawn." She mimicked as she tore the arms off a Hermalsh demon. The arms quickly grew back, plus some. She was really enjoying this. All the arms, gave her a slight bit of a challenge. It reared back and tried to charge at her with its six-foot horns.  
  
"I can do anything I damn well please!" she cried, finishing off her sentence by ripping off her opponents head.  
  
"Humph. I mean, why is it so wrong, huh? Ohh big deal! Dawn trying to save the world! Let's all get upset and yell. Jeez! Excuse me, for yet again, trying to do a good." She said to the demon's head. Its eyes blinked back at her.  
  
"You are doing very well, girl. You beheaded me! That's a goal you've achieved. But remember, not all of us are evil." Spoke the Head. Buffy held the Head further away from her and wrinkled her nose.  
  
"Why do I need to explain this all again? Me. We. Saving world. Always a happy part of the story!" the demon shook its Head, or at least tried to make the motion of it.  
  
"Slayers. Really. I would think you would go for something of the sort, like say, killing the really bad demons. I've killed many innocents in my time, things such as me, should be killed. But what about those other demons? The half breeds? Their children? Look around Slayers, see what would happen to them. Not at what would happen to you." Suddenly the Head disintegrated and covered her shoes.  
  
"Evil. Always trying to impart some wisdom." She wiped her hands on her leather pants and continued on her slaying journey.  
  
'Duck left' 'Twist' 'Punch up, right and roundhouse left.' She did them all at once. Smashing her attacker to the ground.  
  
"Smooth, ducks, smooth."  
  
"Why am I helping your ass up again?" she asked, reaching our her hand, swiftly retracting it when she felt him try to pull her on top of him.  
  
"Because," he said, flipping up, " you are always the one throwing it down." Spike flashed her his winning grin. It seemed to calm her.  
  
"It's been years, Slayer." He began walking in step with her. She flipped her golden hair over her shoulder.  
  
"More like decades. How've you been?" just like old times. Hundred years ago, they explored every country they came across. Bluntly she took off. All of her Slayers kicked in and she left. He had waited one early morning for her to show up with her smile and bananas. But she didn't. He was stranded in a insipid room in the middle of Tibet.  
  
"Well, you missed a helluva time in Tibet. Damn, those women could dance." He said lightly. Trying to break the tension that built up. She was waiting for him to yell at her. To make her explain why she split on him.  
  
"You want to start? Or should I just start streamin out curses?" he asked twenty minutes into silence. She stopped him with a gesture.  
  
"It hurt me too, to leave you like that." He raised his scarred eyebrow.  
  
"But you had to know that I couldn't stay with you for much longer. We spent a hundred great years together, don't you think?" she looked at him with hopeful eyes.  
  
"It was one hundred and three years, love. We were together for a hundred and three years. I knew it wasn't going to be forever, but I never thought it would have ended like that. So harsh, so curt, you know?" she saw the hurt in his eyes. The betrayal written across his face.  
  
"I would have followed you. Anywhere. Why, slayer? Buffy, tell me." He grabbed her shoulders and forced her to look at him.  
  
"I found her." She said quietly. Spike stepped back, as if struck. He knew who her was.  
  
"What do you mean? Found her? She's here?" he scanned up and down the gritty streets.  
  
"Not anymore. I killed her. I ripped her to pieces, Spike. It didn't take very long. Too short if you ask me. And..I, uhh, well, I ran into an old friend." Spike smelled the air suspiciously.  
  
"Ahhh, Peaches, is it? What? Rekindle that old flame of yours?" he asked snidely.  
  
"Actually, no. Mr. Jealous-I'm-in-control-of-everything. We didn't. He killed a Mornch. Said something about me. But not sure what. Angel wasn't too forthcoming with the info."  
  
"As I would expect him to be. Did you tell him anything?" he inquired softly, with anger tinted into it. He remembered many nights trying to persuade her to talk to him. About her. About anything. What this whole big 'Slayers' thing was about. You would think after so many years together there would be some trust, but there seemed to be less. If she told his great Poof of a sire anything...  
  
"No, as a matter of fact. I didn't, so don't get all pantsy- fancy about it, okay?"  
  
"Where are you headed now?" the street ended into an intersection. The fake lights giving off an uncomfortable glow. She shrugged. She never knew where she was going. She headed off to where she thought she should be.  
  
"Don't know, maybe New Zealand. Haven't been there since China over took it. See if I can track anything." She stuck out her hand, whistling for a hover dome.  
  
"What about you? What brought you to Seattle?" she still kept her eyes on the road. Searching for some type of transportation.  
  
"I lost your trace somewhere in the Cantonese. Went through China, again, and met up with Jack and Cryan. Their kids are all grown up now. Jessiphine celebrated her 122nd birthday. She has seven kids. Morfto has three of his own, now too. They were asking about you." She smiled slightly, remembering the Dornoff half-breeds they saved in Tokyo in 2101. Cryan was carrying their youngest, Jessiphine. She was a gorgeous, none the less, purple child.  
  
"What did you tell them?" Almost embarrassed that she wasn't there. To tell them she was okay and that she just had to rid the world of evil, she'd see them soon.  
  
"They told me something very intriguing, Slayer. A trifling rumor that is been tossed around the grapevine. Something that has a bit to do with those Mornch demons you are so fond of?" her eyes narrowed as she pondered what he said. She shook it off, like it was a surprise to her too.  
  
"What's being said? Something positive, like 'Man her skin is really smooth after all these years!', you know. But Mornch? I don't have the slightest clue it what it might be."  
  
"Slayer, you always were a bad liar. Just spill it. After all these years, don't you think you could tell me? You know how much you mean to me, just let it go." He clasped her hand. Hers was strikingly cold.  
  
"I don't see what the big deal is. I mean, it's just The First. I'm going after it. Dead. Me killer. First deader than before." Spike dropped her hand.  
  
"What the bloody hell are you thinking?! That has to be the damned stupidest thing you have ever said! What the hell gave you that idea?! Going after The First? Pfft! I bloody well don't think so!" he yelled. She wanted to spit on him. Do more than that actually. She grabbed the lapels of his duster.  
  
"Listen," she seethed, "it is a damn well good plan! No matter what you or Angel or some dead Hermalsh demon say! Or all those others that disapprove! What can't I do a major saving job? Then I can retire with a tea cozy! That's all I ever wanted! A freakin tea cozy!" she dropped him.  
  
"So you want to end all life on earth, because you want a flippin tea cozy? When did you become all self-involved?" she slapped him hard across his face. Blood instantaneously sprung to his mouth.  
  
"I am NOT selfish! I have never gotten one thing I've ever wanted out of life! I get to walk around, killing off things that just seem to grow back! I can never do enough! I can never be somewhere fast enough! No more friends, Spike! No more walks in the park! You want to know why? There are no more parks! There are no more warm sunny days. Because this world has gone to shit! That's why! So if I can bring a smile to someone's face, because they felt safe enough to walk in the sun, well, my job is done!" she finished her speech with a huff. Spike cocked his head.  
  
"What do you think you've been doing for the past two centuries? Why is the world so over populated? Because there aren't any dying! Because, because Slayer, you are saving them! I walked down the streets in the dark of Taiwan and I saw children playing with marbles. Remember those? They were having a grand ole time. With just those. Why do you think they are so bloody happy? Because they are alive, because everyday you stop this world from falling over. Toppling to the wrong side. And you think by taking off Evil everything would just sit right?" he stared at her. Knowing all she wanted to do was nod her head.  
  
"You can't do it. I mean, you could, but kill off millions of happy people in the process. Just think about what, who you are going to hurt."  
  
"Arrggh! I know what I'm doing! I know I'm going to kill It. How this world and everyone in it is going to be saved!"  
  
"How, Buffy? How are you going to kill It? The First? It has no real shape, no real form. By all means, tell me how you are going to slay something that which isn't?" he crossed his arms over his chest. A soft growl radiated from his throat.  
  
"I just will. That's all I know. That's all that matters. I'm going to win and save us all! Get the damn picture now?" No ride showed. She turned around and walked away.  
  
"What is this all about, hmm? This isn't about saving everyone, this is about saving you! Them! You just became so damn cocky and self- righteous that all this is made to be about you and Them! They are dead Buffy! Dead! You can't bring them back! You are going to end up dead if you don't stop!" he never saw her coming. Actually, he never could see her coming. Her light body pinned his down with an unseen force.  
  
"For some reason, I have to repeat myself with you. I am not, nor have ever been selfish-"  
  
"So it's about revenge?" her fist pressed down harder on his throat. All the stolen blood clouded his face.  
  
"It's about life. About saving. That's all its ever been about." She pushed away from him. She stood up tall in her heeled boots and before Spike realized he was standing, she was gone.  
  
~ ~ ~ 


	5. It Already Destroyed Her

She walked the streets that night. Collecting whistles and feared glances. She wasn't in the mood to banter, or to fight, so when a mortal tried to grab her wallet she simply knocked him out.  
  
"Stupid bastard." She stared down and his rumpled form. This is what she was saving. What she and They died for. So this kid could be born and steal for his family. He had greasy hair. A torn overcoat and steel shoes. His pants were sodden, reeking of rats and old bread. He couldn't have been more than seventeen. She pulled him into a cross street and wait for him to wake up.  
  
The smell of smoke woke him up. 'Damn! That lady packed a punch!'. He reached up and grabbed his jaw. Blood had crusted over his lips and it made a disturbing sound when he pried them apart.  
  
"Hello, sunshine." Chirped a voice. He popped one eyelid open and scrambled back.  
  
"Shit lady! What the hell are you doing?" she sat calmly, smoking her cig like it was a normal day. She was gorgeous. Blonde, you didn't see much of that color anymore. All rainbows or black. Sometimes a mixed blotch of both. Tight leather pants. Damn it! She was hot!  
  
"What's your name kid?" she demanded. He glanced around him. It was near dawn and he could hear the hovers swishing back and forth.  
  
"Kellen. What..what's yours?" She stood up, and he almost laughed. He had to be a foot taller than her! When he looked into her eyes, everything stopped. He could feel her pain. Her anguish. She couldn't have been much older than him. He felt bad for her. But then he changed his mind. She was some rich girl who lost her lock card and couldn't find a ride home.  
  
"Dawn. You seventeen?"  
  
"Eighteen. You would be?" she cracked a smile. She flicked her cig away and blew the rest of her cold smoke in his face.  
  
"You would never believe." He scoffed at her. There were things he'd seen and heard. He would believe anything that she told him.  
  
"Try me." She started to walk away. She was about fifty feet away from him before he realized it.  
  
"Wait up!" he called. She turned around and paused for a second. He was slightly out of breath by the time he reached her.  
  
"Ever heard of vampires, kid-Kellen?" he looked strangely upon her. How would she know about vampires? Didn't she live in the Gated City? There were no vamps there.  
  
"I've seen a few, why? How would you know about them?" he said, accusingly. She stopped. Her figure was small and he had this urge to fold her up into something delicate. He spent years on the streets, luckily fighting his way out of a few attacks. But many vamps didn't come around this part anymore. Too many druggies and scared poor people who were willing to fight back.  
  
"You could say I've seen a few too. So you do this? A lot?" she looked into his dirty face, "Steal things I mean?" he shrugged as if he got caught stealing cookies.  
  
"What else can I do? There's no work, no way to pay for anything. So you make your way. Whatever you can do to make it through the night." She nodded, as if she understood. He became angered. What did she know? All high and fancy? Prancing around here and preaching about stealing?  
  
"What do you know? Living on the streets! I know where you're from-" he pointed to a higher region of mountains. She could see a grand wall, make out the electricity wires on top of them.  
  
"Kid, I don't even know where I'm from." He sneered.  
  
"Ohh, very vague. You seem to be good at that. What do you want anyway? You knock me out and now you what? Want to know my life story?" he cried. She smiled smugly at him.  
  
"Well, I had planned on saving your ass from those three vamps that were coming up behind you, but if you'd rather me go." Kellen whipped around. Three were fastly approaching, fortunate to find a meal at this time. He began backing up, trying to force Dawn behind him, but he realized she wasn't there. She was in front of him, making some quip to the vamps.  
  
"Dawn!" he cried, "What are you doing?" She shushed him with a flash of a sharp wooden object. He watched in awe as she dispensed of the first two vampires in almost one motion. The third tried to run, but she was already staking it. She turned back to him. So, he was now certain that she wasn't from the Gated City. She tossed him the object.  
  
"I would hang on to that. So what were we arguing about?" she cocked her head to the side. She took out three vamps in less then ten seconds. It would have taken close to ten minutes for seven people to kill them.  
  
"What..what are you?" she smiled. A smile that filled him up and made him never want to leave her side.  
  
"Slayer. I kill the baddies. My job." She looked up at the sky.  
  
"It'll be sunrise in about seven minutes. I'm hungry, you?" he kept his tongue in his mouth as he nodded.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
The shrill pounding brought him to attention. He leapt from his bed, hoping that it was Buffy. Or Dawn, whatever. It took him a good thirty minutes to fix his door. If it wasn't her, well.  
  
"WHAT?!" he yelled as he swung the door open. His Childe stood. His blonde was gone. Now back to his roots. Shock crawled over his body.  
  
"What do you want?" Angel growled. Spike snickered. He ran a hand through his short hair.  
  
"Why, sugar, I missed you too!" he pushed himself pasted his Sire and surveyed the room.  
  
"What the hell is this? When did you become all underground again?" Angel sighed.  
  
"Is there some importance in this visit?" Spike pulled out a cigarette and automatically lit up. His dead lungs pushed out the foul smoke.  
  
"Well, it has been a coupla centuries, Daddy." Angel pursed his lips and glared. Spike shrugged.  
  
"Alright, heard you had a social call with dear old Buffy." Angel frowned.  
  
"What's going on with her Spike? Why did she insist I call her Dawn?" Spike could taste the anger in his Sire's words. Spike ran his hand over his face.  
  
"She told you to call her that?" Angel nodded.  
  
"Did she tell you anything? About what happened?" Spike questioned. Angel shook his head.  
  
"No. Why? What's going on?" Angel demanded. Spike looked around the room, hoping to find something to focus on. Something other than his Sire's scowling face. He really didn't want to say anything about anything to this poufter. But he knew his Sire needed to know.  
  
"When Dawn died, so did Buffy. Not like a part of her, like the whole bloody thing. She went all psychotic. Killing anything that came within ten feet of her. For a while she thought she was Dawn. She didn't want to be called Buffy. She only used Dawn. But then, sometimes she would be Willow, or even Anya. Sometimes Joyce. Never Buffy. She lost it all." He blurted. Angel paced around his tiny apartment. Confusion was awash on his face.  
  
"What happened with you two?" Spike flicked his fag away. He wanted to decline. Not divulge intimate secrets with his sire. But the way he was walking, clenching his hands, Spike shrugged.  
  
"We became lovers. Traveled, years. Many years. Never staying anywhere for long. Sometimes in high rises or just sleeping in caves. Wherever she wanted to go, I followed. She got better, you know? She asked me to call her Buffy again. That was about.hundred and twelve, maybe thirteen years ago." Angel sat down. News and information on Buffy, crammed too fast into his head. Spike now paced. Could never do anything for long.  
  
"Why'd she leave?" Spike scoffed.  
  
"Something I ask myself everyday. She left in 2104. We were in Tibet or what was Tibet. One day she never showed back up. She was getting me some bananas. Those were really hard to come by. I took a liking to them." His icy eyes focused elsewhere, trying to remember that day. Relying on his blood to tell him where the sun was. The tiny room in Tibet was suffocating him. He had a passion for bananas. She said she knew where she could get some. So he thought she'd be gone for an hour. When nightfall hit he was gone. He searched the town up and down. Looking for her anywhere. He caught a conversion between two Aremkidy demons about how some crazy slayer ripped though a Kaldnik nest eariler this afternoon. Supposedly looking for some information on the Mornchs. Spike grabbed one by his thorny neck and demanded to know where she went after. The little demon hissed out that she'd jumped onto some ship. So he dropped and ran to the docks. He caught her scent and raced after her, but all he found were some old footprints.  
  
"What's this thing with The First? Why is she hell-bent on destroying It?" Spike snapped out of his daze.  
  
"Because It already destroyed her."  
  
~ ~ ~ 


	6. Learn To Forget

Buffy walked Kellen back to his street. There were blankets and tents lined along the walls. Her heart skipped beats. She wanted to save everyone, but yet, there were still people living like this. No hope. No family. Nothing to their name. She prances around willing to kill anything and push it beyond her. Thinking she was just too good for any of it. Too strong. Too willing to forget about the others.  
  
"This is it." Kellen said, referring to boxing in between a bawling women and a twitching old man. Her eyes scrunched, trying to make something out of this. This feeling she hadn't felt since she was mortal. This wanting to cure. To save these people from their own selves. She used to be good at that. But then again, she had been human.  
  
"Dawn?" Kellen asked softly. Buffy averted her eyes from the starving children that sat gazing upon her.  
  
"Thanks. For..you know. All of it." He tightened his worthless coat around his under nourished body. The winds whipped up, salt sang in the air. A familiar ache started in her fists, a sign. There was one, no several, out here. She sniffed the air. Analyzed how it shifted and rotated. Her feet moved to the left, directing her over the children, past gambling boys into a make shift shelter. She moved the curtain back, eyes immediately adjusting to the darkness.  
  
"S-slayer." Came a hiss. Buffy stopped, crossing her fatal arms over her chest.  
  
"Armnar, what brings you to this dump of humans? Feel like finally dying?" she smirked. The slouched demon crept further backwards.  
  
"It's-s all changed now, S-slayer. After you lef-ft me, I was-s found. Thes-se people helped me. S-so, now I help them. Amends-s S-slayer. S-something you s-should try." Buffy sighed.  
  
"Like I'm going to believe your bullshit. Come on now Armnar, you don't have to lie. I'll make it fast. I promise." She advanced.  
  
"No!" came a small cry. A being latched onto her leg. Buffy gave a twitch and the thing flew from her leg. The tiny child shakily stood up and ran to the lean beast. She threw her pale arms around the thick neck and Buffy watched carefully as Armnar gently picked up the girl. As if it were his own.  
  
"S-she is-s mine. S-slayer not all are looking to take over the world. Look pas-st that." Buffy's nostrils flared.  
  
"Don't hurt him, lady. Please, he's my daddy. He kills the bad men. Please." She was taken back. This child was.was this monster's?  
  
"What bad men, love?" She inquired. Armnar set her down and she looked at Buffy with frightened green orbs. She grabbed her father's hand and bit her tiny lip.  
  
"They come. With lights and sticks. They want to hurt my Poppa and my brother. They want to hurt the others. All of them. They..they like Poppa, they nice. They feed the others and me. All of the others. Please lady. Please..please don't hurt my Poppa." Buffy regarded the small girl. If she looked hard she might have seen a little Willow, but she thought she saw her friends in brick walls, so that wasn't saying much. She stepped forward and reached her hands to Buffy's face. Buffy crouched down to the child's level. The soft warmth of the girl's hands made her hands shake. She hadn't felt warmth in more than one hundred years. Enough years to forget. To become what she is now. Alone.  
  
She didn't know what to do now. This humanity suddenly poured from this girl's fingertips. She remembered something like this centuries ago. When her own sister would hold her hand as she fell asleep. Buffy felt the urge to cry. Something she had stopped doing two hundred years ago. What was it about this girl? Was it the green eyes? The way her eyebrows scrunched up? Or the blonde hair? The natural shimmering locks, streaked by dirt and bits of left over pieces. Or was it the strength that she held Buffy with. Buffy felt connected. That somewhere, long ago, she knew this small girl. Something called to her. It felt so wonderful to be tied to something again. There was willingness to come between this monster that was going to rip her daddy apart. The thought struck her. She was doing her job! How was she turned into the monster? The girl motioned to touch her hair.  
  
"Your hair shines. Like gold. Can.may I touch it?" Buffy could feel Armnar eyes bore into her forehead. He was trying to read her intentions with his child. She could detect the fear and anxiety weaving from his demonic body. Staring into the eyes of the girl, Buffy nodded. She lifted a bruised and crusted hand to Buffy's hair. With child gentleness she stroked it. Buffy leaned into her touch.  
  
"Me mum had hair shiny too. I would play with it. Twirl. Mines not as pretty though." Buffy sighed softly under the child's attention. She touched Buffy's cheek and leaned in close.  
  
"I know you. I see you inside my heart when I'm scared. And I know that I missed you 'til you came." Buffy bit her lip. And raised a hand to the child's face. She twirled a piece of her dirty hair.  
  
"Your hair is very pretty. Just like mine." The girl beamed. Armnar grunted and his child turned away from Buffy. The warmth evaporated immediately. She started and hastily stood up.  
  
"You s-should leave the S-slayer be, s-sweet one. S-she is no help to us." The child's lips began to quiver. She returned to gaze to Buffy and grabbed her hand. Tears fell quietly.  
  
"You are strong. You can kill Them. You can help the others." Buffy cocked her eyebrow.  
  
"What makes you think I'm strong, child?" she looked from Buffy to her father and back again.  
  
"You scared my Poppa and no thing scares my Poppa." Buffy almost smiled. Something she also learned to forget.  
  
"I'll help you. Where are the others?" Buffy asked softly. The girl took her hand and lead her out of the shelter. The sun filtered through the two buildings that provided shelter to the homeless. There was a fire burning, women hovering nearby, laughing and crying. Children holding hands and looking over their shoulders. Boys held metal rods and pointed sticks. Some carried guns, other knives. Buffy stepped over bodies lying unceremoniously on the ground. Huddling close to each other for warmth. She felt more demons mulling around, casually with the humans. Her hands grasped the child's softly, trembling from the effort not to rip the demons apart. She stopped in front of another small tent. The girl whistled airily and unzipped the flap. Two ghostly red demons sat side by side playing with stones. They both yelped when they saw the glowing aura around the Slayer's body. The girl shushed them. She petted Buffy's hand.  
  
"She will stop Them. She will help us." They stared at Buffy, back at each other and orange tear like streaks appeared on their mushy faces. Buffy felt Armnar's presence behind her.  
  
"What's happening here?" Armnar looked down shamefully. His body loomed over hers. Yet with her power, she seemed to rise above him. Kellen surfaced from the grimy light.  
  
"Demon hunters. An Army type. Killing off whatever looks evil. Or whatever gets in their way. They're lookin to kill off everything outside of the Gated City." Buffy looked down at the child that was still petting her hand.  
  
"What's the Gated City?" she asked, soothing down a sticky piece of the girl's hair. She blushed.  
  
"After the Fourth War, everyone in almost the whole West Coast moved into what's called the Gated City. About two million people. It's gated by twenty-foot high, electric fences. Which is also very hard to come by. It's heavily guarded. Everyone in the Gated is issued a lock card. If they want to go out of the City they have to have their lock card. They stopped letting people in about eleven years ago. Now they want to 'clean' up the town. To make it safe for the Gated to come out. Have..have you been in America for long?" Buffy shook her head. She had stayed in Europe for that past.well since all of her family died. She only came back for Glory.  
  
"So that explains why you don't know about the Banishment." Buffy was still puzzled.  
  
"People became accustomed to demons. But when the Fourth happened, people came to the conclusion that it was tied to the demons. All the unnatural ones. So began the Banishment. Any and every demon that was caught or found was to be killed..sometimes on spot, but other times.well, tortured." The rumors that she heard while flying around Europe were true. The killing of all demons. That's why her Slayers were in overdrive. They thought this was a brilliant plan. Buffy, the ever-obedient Slayer, decided to follow orders. Slash and dash. Armnar touched her arm. The urge to rip him until he screamed was so over powering she almost bit her lip off.  
  
"It's not us that kill anymore, it's Them. We are not safe from Them." The statement shocked Buffy to her most inner Slayer. 


End file.
